


haunted by the ghost of you

by indestinatus



Category: NCIS
Genre: 13x17, Angst and Feels, Episode Fix-it, Episode Tag, Episode: s13e17 After Hours, F/M, Sad, just some sad feelz cuz danni's amazing fic inspired this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:53:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25005727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indestinatus/pseuds/indestinatus
Summary: March 2016. Tony DiNozzo makes plans for a real dateyearsafter she's gone... but is she really?Set in 13x17.
Relationships: Ziva David/Anthony DiNozzo
Comments: 19
Kudos: 41





	haunted by the ghost of you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hundan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hundan/gifts).



> This fic was inspired by the amazing work [Boxed-In](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24890257) by the more than amazing [Hundan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hundan/pseuds/Hundan).  
> If you wish to understand some references in here, please read that one first.

For the first time in months, all was going pretty smoothly in Anthony DiNozzo’s life. The case at work had wrapped up relatively easily, his boss had let them go home early and most important of all - he was _getting some_ tonight.

Her name was Leah. He met her last week through a common friend and yeah, he'd felt pretty smug that she'd clearly fancied him from the start. Blond beauty, great smile and stunning blue eyes that could capture anyone that looked at them for too long. First triple-T he'd find since... well since about three years ago. Tall, tasty and trust-funded, it was all a guy could ask for himself. 

Not that it mattered that he didn't know anything else about her, where she worked or where she was from, it was usually better this way. Talking was overrated and even if he got interested in those things, he could always just ask her about it. McOprah had poked fun at him earlier because he usually didn't talk to the girls he dated, and he'd brushed him off thinking what was the point of getting interested in details when he could learn about them later on? 

His therapist had advised him to open his horizons and think about the possibilities within his reach, and what a better situation than to date a gorgeous woman and have some indulgent sex for a change? Leah was blond and easy and fancied him, exactly the opposite of _her_. She was just perfect. He made reservations on Fiola's at 7:00. This night would be great.

Tony smiled to himself as he arranged the cold wine and matching glasses on his coffee table and put the Sinatra music sheet within reach for later that evening. If he was going to do this, he might as well do it right and impress her with some romance-filled atmosphere. He might enjoy the presence of the ladies, but that didn't mean he would treat his dates poorly. Especially after so many years of not touching the matter - Zoe being the one exception of his attempts in finding 'love'; which only _he_ knew how poorly _that_ had ended up - he was a little bit rusty with all the dating maneuvers and it was easier to be safe than bad at it.

And so he tested the fireplace and saw that it was working just fine, which made his smile widen satisfied. He'd foregone his rule of not inviting his date at his place long ago, since he realized it was better to have control of the situation than to depend on others to control his reality, his choices on things. Well, since she...

Tony stopped humming and quickly changed his train of thought, something that came easily to him now. He mentally made a note to show that off to his therapist, something they'd been working on for months then. 

"What do you think of that, Kate?" he said as he poured her food on the bowl. 

Tony clicked his tongue and surveyed his apartment, now very nice with the piano lid open and the candles he'd arranged around the living room to turn it all golden later on.

"Tonight is the night," he exhaled, pleased with his work.

Then he left, humming once again, wondering if Leah would also be pleased. 

* * *

As far as dinner dates went, this one had been absolutely fantastic.

The food was delicious, he made her laugh and they talked about everything and nothing. It was good to meet new people who had no idea who he was but also didn't ask for specifics, so he could paint a clear picture of the guy he'd like to be for her; and perhaps with time, he would start believing in that himself. 

It didn't hurt that he could feel how bothered she was for him, based on the dress she'd picked for tonight and the constant hair flips to drag his attention to where it grazed her low neckline. And so he wasted no opportunity, using his charming smile whenever he could and making sure he did glance at her body from time to time.

"Dinner was fantastic. Thank you," Leah said as he opened the door to his apartment.

"My pleasure," replied Tony with a smile. "You ready for dessert?"

"I could be talked into it."

She cast him one of her coy smiles he'd seen all evening, and he knew she too had other things in mind. 

Great, he thought. Now he only had to keep his plan going.

"Let me take your coat," he said promptly, stepping around her to help her remove it. He made sure to brush her exposed neck in the process, and was rewarded with a low hum that checked yet another thing off his list. He was feeling very good with himself when he realized how easy it was to slip back to the role of being a pro with women, and was amazed by how great it felt to also be desired. 

"It's beautiful," Tony added with a purr.

"Thank you," Leah replied with bright eyes. "Nice place."

Her voice was low and honest, and that was his cue to light up the fireplace. He did, watching her eyes widen and her laughter escape, and was immensely pleased he'd managed to impress her with his rusty skills. 

"Thank you," he replied after lightening up the various candles around the living room. They sure did a splendid job, coloring the room a shade of gold with shadows that made everything more sensual than usual.

He was killing it.

"I never get to enjoy it," Tony added. "I'm always working."

"Oh, right, and you are a Federal agent. Something I have never dated before." Her voice was honey-filled when she stepped closer to him, and he let her press her body to his when she wrapped her arms around him. "Tell me. Where do you keep your gun?"

For a fraction of a second, he couldn't refrain the frown that made its way to his face, but soon recomposed himself with a smile and was relieved she hadn't noticed. He wondered why she'd asked him that, if it was really a big deal to carry a gun and why he thought something felt... _off_.

Perhaps it was the action of bringing it up, of talking about it like it wasn't common for someone to have one - something he could easily forget for spending so much time working, that people from the outside saw it differently - or perhaps it was just the act of talking about it at all. He was used to not have to explain himself, or maybe he was used to having someone at his side who also was great with weapons-

"I keep it in a secure place. Until it's needed." 

Tony clenched his jaw and was grateful she couldn't read his thoughts, because Leah kept using her seductive tone while her hands soothed across his shirt on his skin, hugging him inside his suit.

"And, uh, how do you know... when it's needed?" she asked. Her head was cocked to one side and she looked up at him from under his chin and yes, yes he liked that. He liked seeing her glossy eyes roam over his face, resting on his lips from time to time. He liked being acknowledged, it felt refreshing and yet familiar, the clear sense of desire emanating from her. He liked that she was straightforward and clear about what she wanted, that was also new. He let his own eyes study her, watching hers darken.

"A man and his gun have a... special relationship," he said.

Tony let his nose graze her neck, bending down to place a kiss just below her ear where he was certain it was a sweet spot for most women. Leah hummed in return, and he was once again pleased with himself that he was actually not as bad as he thought.

"Sounds like you take good care of it." Her voice was slurred, which meant they'd reached a point where their words didn't matter anymore. Good, he thought. This wasn't a safe topic to stay in, especially with it being a chance he didn't want to lose. He could feel his mind stirring up images of someone else, of how good _she_ was with a gun, with a knife, with anything really. With nothing at all. 

_No_ , he thought. That wasn't the time nor the place, and he tried to distract himself by kissing Leah's neck more, by hearing her satisfied purr. He tried to lock those images his treacherous mind evoked, of memories long buried in a place he tried not visit, of things he'd tried to forget. It helped that she started to moan softly, and Tony shut his eyes while kissing her neck to make his own mind turn black.

"I have to." He could hear the restraint in his voice and cursed himself mentally, trying to relax. He stopped kissing her and backed away to meet her eyes, inhaling deeply. Yes, that was better. He felt some composure return once he saw how turned on she looked, her cheeks flushed while her hands brushed the back of his short hair. Relief filled him when his breathing calmed down again and he managed to cast her a smirk.

"A gun that isn't well-maintained could cost someone their life," said Tony, aware that whatever he said she wouldn't pay any attention to.

Then he bent down and kissed her, letting her soft tongue trace his bottom lip and her body lean closer to his. He could feel her enjoying the kiss, her hands tucking his short hair and her mouth opening up easily as she let out a soft whimper through her nose. His eyes were still opened and he watched hers half-lidded with desire, face contorted with pleasure. He tried to do the same, letting his hands roam over her perfect body and his eyes shut close to fully enjoy the moment. This was what he was hoping for the night after all.

So Tony let go, making his best to forget while the kiss turned wilder and hotter. And he did end up enjoying it, the fuzzy feeling of being wanted warming his body into action.

But even if his body reacted to her, even if the kiss was phenomenal, his mind was not completely there.

No. Every time he closed his eyes, dark brown eyes stared back at him, not blue.

* * *

"You don't actually play, do you?" she asked.

A wide smile lit up her face and he had to laugh. Maybe his attempts at keeping it discreet hadn't been as good as he thought.

Leah moved closer to the piano, her fingers tracing the lid before turning back to look at him. Yes, she was teasing, her movements still pretty seductive for him to dismiss, which was a good thing. It brought him back to reality, seeing her blond hair reflecting the candlelight and her bright smile showing her excitement like that. 

"Well, yeah, a little. You know, I don't like to bother the neighbors. Walls are thin," Tony replied.

He moved closer to her, standing over her shoulder to see she had found the piece he'd let exposed earlier that evening on the coffee table. He chuckled. It was unusual for him to be this blatant, even for his typical womanizer persona. To let the one song he _knew_ he played quite well visible to be used as a conversation topic was a pretty... obvious move. He tried not to think about what that meant, if he was so desperate to move on from things he would use this kind of...

He had already moved on from things. _He had_.

Tony cleared his throat. "Plus, as you can tell, I'm kind of shy," he said, whispering next to her ear as he tried to get back at it.

She chuckled at his reply. "You know, "Strangers in the Night" is one of my favorite songs."

"You don't _say_. What a _coincidence_."

Her laughter in response made him smile, the air feeling light again. Yes, this was good. He had control of the situation, she had liked him and she enjoyed being here. His plan had worked, even with all its imperfections, and that was all that mattered. She was gorgeous, the atmosphere was perfect and the night was promising. He wouldn't waste this chance. 

"You have to play for me," she turned to him, smiling. She did have a pretty smile. 

"Oh, I couldn't," he played it hard to get and saw her eyebrows shot up, asking him once more. "No."

Leah took his hand and led him to the piano, making him seat. He dismissed how childish that felt by how pretty she looked standing next to his piano like that, her body clearly leaning against it to display her fortunate curves.

"Okay," he chuckled. He took the pages he'd left on the coffee table to arrange them neatly on the music rack before grinning at her. "Okay, fasten your seatbelt."

Tony let his fingers brush the black and white keys slightly before starting to play with a flourish of his hands. He began with a glissando and smiled when she giggled at him.

"Just a little, is that right?" he said, and she chuckled. It felt good to be able to impress her like this, to laugh at trivial things and watch her laugh in return, following his poor attempts at making jokes easily. It felt good to _flirt_ again, even if some part of him knew this would all be forgotten in the morning, even if somehow he knew this was nothing but a fling, only a temporary escape from- 

" _Strangers in the night, exchanging glances_..." Tony sang, focusing on her smile instead. He tried not to think about why it bugged him so much that he'd used his musical skills to win her over. He tried not to think that it was one of the last tricks he would pull to impress someone, while before it was all a well-kept secret. Before, it was a part of him that he chose not to show others, one that was too vulnerable for him to expose to strangers like that. Well, since then, only her mother, father and tutor had heard him play. Only them and-

He missed a note but managed to laugh it off, singing the lyrics with a playful voice while she giggled next to him. He kept his eyes fixed on hers and was rewarded with Leah chewing her bottom lip, showing him she was enjoying him play but also with a clear intent in mind. When the chorus came, he winked at her and her eyes turned brighter, exactly what he'd hoped for.

When the song came to an end, she giggled, clapping at him while her eyes traveled up and down his arms. 

"You are very, very good at that," she said.

"I try my best."

The air was stinging with electricity and his stomach turned, wondering what would follow. He sure was ready to move on to _other activities_ , but she seemed to be wanting more talk. He didn't mind talking, but he also didn't care for it. They had already finished a bottle of wine, he was eager to get this over with. 

Tony frowned at himself, wondering why he'd thought that way. This was a night that was supposed to be fun, not a burden. This was his getaway, his chance of relaxing and perhaps finally calming down his libido but... but he didn't feel relaxed. No, not really. He sighed, forcing a smile, watching her hand travel across the piano lid to brush his bottom lip, which helped him forget a little.

"Should we get to the real dessert? I'm sure there's some hunger left in you," he purred, swallowing down the doubts.

She smiled, her eyes heavy while her finger still traced his lips. "Do you have a favorite?"

"Hm?" His frown was visible now, trying to catch what she meant. 

"Every man has a favorite."

_What was she talking about?_

"Hm, I'm not sure what you mean," he chuckled, and confusion must have shown in his eyes, because she started to laugh.

"A favorite song, you silly," was her reply. "Every artist has a favorite one."

"Oh." It was his time to laugh, relief washing over him. Inside, though, Tony cursed himself mentally _once again_ , something that was turning quite frequent for that night. He was well aware she'd meant something completely different, but wondered why she had used that kind of phrasing, if it was in fact a trap to make him reveal something she wanted to know.

He was also well aware of the clear image that had come to mind as soon as she asked that, of alluring dark eyes and a secretive smile that knew him too well.

He huffed out a breath, forcing himself to blink away the memories and enter the mood again. It wasn't as easy as before, though. 

"Not really," he found himself saying, then a chuckle escaped his own lips at his lie. He knew _exactly_ what was his favorite song, just as he knew exactly what had been his favorite-

She seemed to notice his hesitation, opening up her smile even more. Leah walked around him, standing behind him and holding his shoulders. She licked the shell of his ear and the hairs of the back of his neck prickled, making him smile. She knew exactly what she was doing, alright. He wasn't going to be the one to stop her.

"Would you play it?" she whispered in his ear. "For me?" 

His heart started to flutter, but it had nothing to do with her massaging his shoulders like that.

Well, perhaps a little.

But no. He knew it had more to do with the fact that he dreaded what was about to follow, though. He knew his favorite song by heart, just as he knew what it evoked. It was a beautiful song, he had to admit, but it was just as painful as it was beautiful. It was his mother's favorite too, and one he didn't play quite frequently, not even for himself, imagine for a stranger he knew nothing about.

But something in the way she touched him made him forget why he rarely played it. There was something new about her that made him feel good, even if he couldn't place exactly what. And maybe it was an act of defiance, or maybe it was about proving himself wrong, or maybe it was just the fact that she continued to kiss his ear, but Tony found himself agreeing. 

His fingers hovered above the keys and he inhaled deeply before starting to play.

The soft notes of Clair de Lune echoed around his apartment and he closed his eyes, forcing himself to relax.

He could almost feel his piano teacher smacking his knuckles when he first tried to learn this song, the ghost of the pain turning almost bittersweet in the years that had passed. He could hear his mother's laughter the first time he did manage to play it for her, even with a few mistakes and tempo lapses, and how happy he'd felt that dinner when she commented on how good he was getting at it. He could even see his father's smile, even if he doubted that memory was a real one, but it felt good picturing it.

And as the song progressed, this time he couldn't stop himself from thinking of her. 

No, he just couldn't. It was a memory he visited often, that one. When he'd played that song in her piano a lifetime ago after another near-death experience shared between them, and she had let him. When she had stood in the doorway of her kitchen and watched him play, guessing which song it was without any clue coming from him. Anyone with a good ear could've guessed it, but it was different with her. It had _always_ been different with her. It was as if she knew more of his soul than even he did, showing him pieces of it that amazed him by how she'd come up with them. 

He missed her. He couldn't deny that he missed her. He missed the way she let her walls down when they were alone, the song making him remember how gentle she'd been when he'd talked about his mother. He missed her many layers and how complex she was as a person, how different and how intriguing. He missed how relaxed he felt around her, how easy it was to talk with her and how peaceful he often felt. He missed the way they spoke in riddles, with meanings only they could understand. He missed her presence in a room and _goddamnit_ , he even missed feeling intimated by it. 

He wasn't sure how long he'd played, but his eyes were open again when his fingers stilled on the keys at the end of the piece, the room turning quiet.

Then he remembered _why_ he didn't play that song.

Tony inhaled deeply, trying to tone down the growing ache inside his chest. His surroundings suddenly felt too bright, too vivid. It was too beautiful with candles like that but without her there. He needed it dark. He needed everything dark, so that he could save that beauty for her, so that he could use it to impress _her_ , and maybe next time he would have a better chance in-

He suddenly felt Leah's hands traveling down his chest from behind, and it was like all the air had been sucked from his lungs. He felt his whole body turn cold, from the back of his neck to his fingertips, and his mind turned numb in a second. It was always like that when he remembered how the past had treated them, how consequences from their choices had turned out to be. When he came back to reality and realized those dreams of his were a far cry from the truth.

Leah must have noticed the way he stiffed, because she stopped kissing his neck, her hands pausing as well. He managed to turn over his shoulder to see her, the feeling of numbness still overpowering him and probably now clear in his stare. 

She didn't seem to mind. "I'm sure you swooned many girls playing that one," whispered Leah. 

And he could almost hear his heart breaking at her words.

It ached to notice that the comment she chose to make wasn't about the song itself, but rather a way to get their game going. She clearly had the intention of sleeping with him now, but he had a feeling anything she could've said it would've been wrong. It ached because he couldn't help but compare to the one he'd heard years ago in a rare moment of vulnerability coming from both sides and how important that once felt. It ached because he wanted to hear something else, he wanted to hear her comment the song, not him. He was unimportant. He wanted to hear her say it had been beautiful, perhaps ask the title if she didn't know, or maybe even comment on how she'd felt while listening to it. 

Or perhaps it was just because he wanted to hear someone else in her voice.

Then he felt a calmness he didn't know he had. It must have been because of the numbness, but suddenly everything made sense. And suddenly everything felt wrong. She looked too blond, her eyes were the wrong color, and her smile was too bright, even if as beautiful as one could have. Her own beauty wasn't the right one, and he realized it was one of the only things he enjoyed about her. And that wasn't fair. It wasn't fair for him to kiss her while his mind screamed the name of someone else, and suddenly not even the part of him that appreciated women greatly wanted to take her to bed only to prove himself a point. 

That this was a mistake, no matter how many times he'd told himself it was not.

"I think..." he clenched his jaw and saw the confusion dawn in her face when the hurt exposed itself in his. "I think you should leave."

Tony saw the progression of uncertainty, skepticism and anger shine in her eyes, and for a fraction of a second, he questioned himself if it was the right thing to do. She looked just his type, with all the T-trifecta and everything... but he'd come to realize over the years that his real match had turned out to be the complete opposite of his type. Fate really laughed in his face in that aspect. 

She huffed, backing away from him. " _Excuse me_?" she said.

He sighed, trying to gather his thoughts in a logical manner not to hurt her, but everything felt jumbled and unsteady, memories overlapping. 

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm not feeling very well."

" _I'm sorry_ ," she mocked his tone. "Have I done something wrong? Or is this just a _game to you_? So you're one of those guys that enjoy luring women into their beds and then shut them down because all they care is for a number?" She let a condescending sneer, stepping even farther away from him. "You're just like every one of them, aren't you? And I thought- I really thought..."

He stood up but made no effort of coming closer, watching her harshly grab her purse and coat on her passing.

"Wait, wait," he found himself saying. "Can we... reschedule?"

" _Reschedule_? What am I, _an appointment_?" She asked no permission before downing the remaining of her wine and taking the second bottle he'd placed on the cooler.

"Wait, I didn't mean to hurt you, it's just that-"

"You can take your excuses and candles and shove it all up your-"

"I am truly sorry," he replied, grabbing her arm once she got to his doorway. He didn't know why he did that, maybe it was because he didn't want to admit defeat but he also didn't want to lose that chance. Perhaps they could in fact reschedule, and he would prepare himself better and think this through and not mess it up like he usually did. This was the right path after all, or else he would end up alone forever, sulking in his empty apartment.

Leah looked down where his hand met her arm and tugged it out of his grasp, turning her back at him. He said nothing while she put on her coat and fumbled with the lock, hauling the door open a second later. He wondered why he chose to stay silent, but a voice in his mind immediately answered for him. Yes, because maybe he would feel better if she had left him in anger, so then he could lie to himself later that there was nothing he could have done.

Her hand was still on the doorknob when Leah looked over her shoulder to meet his eyes. And he thought he would feel something, maybe sorrow, or resentment or disappointment. But Tony was surprised that for once he felt nothing at all.

"Does she know?" she asked.

His heart started racing against his will. 

"What?"

The look in her eyes softened imperceptibly and now he felt so dizzy he thought he was going to throw up.

"Does she know you still love her?"

He chuckled nervously, his laughter cold even to his own ears. He saw her posture straighten when she got the answer she needed, nodding solemnly before turning her beautiful blue eyes back at his again.

"It's a shame."

Then she was gone, shutting the door close behind her and leaving him to his own hell.

* * *

He started to laugh, the sound way too loud as it echoed around his hollow apartment. Was it really that obvious? Was it really that obvious that a stranger would understand what he spent years trying to put into words? What was he supposed to do, then? Hide? Try to deny, surely, it was something he got pretty good at over the years. Lie to himself until he started to believe it? Yes, done that too, and failed miserably at it.

"What a wonderful night, uh, Kate?" his hands were shaking and his mouth tasted sour, and he couldn't stop the tremble in his voice when he noticed the candles still burning, his poor attempt in fixing things. Rage curled hot and unstoppable in his gut, like a blazing inferno that wanted to burn him from the inside out. He balled his fingers to a fist and paced angrily towards the candles, ready to extinguish their flames along with any hopes he once had for the night.

"Might as well get another goldfish and give it her name, uh? What do you think? I think you'd like a pal." He stormed from candle to candle, putting out their light with his fingers, the burning close to nothing in comparison to what he felt. "That bowl of yours is too filled with water, uh? Feels empty? I know just the feeling."

Soon the room was dark and he had no other choice than to stare back it. It felt comforting somehow, to be able to stay blind like that. For a moment he could pretend he didn't see her everywhere he looked, in every street corner and every stranger's face. He was tired of it, of the lies and the pain and the pretending. For a flicker of a moment, he asked himself if he still had a chance to end it, if he could still win her back somehow, if he still- 

He tried to forget her. He really did. At the beginning, it was not easy at all, seeing her desk empty every morning and then someone else taking care of it in her place. But with time, he learned how to not feel her absence that much, even if every second of every day reminded him that he had made a wrong decision. Well, that a wrong decision was made for him. 

But he could've done something. Anything, he could have stayed by her side until she changed her mind, he could have tried to convince her of how wrong it all was, or at least he could've not given up so easily. But he didn't know what else to do when she had asked for time. When she had asked for space, when _she_ made the decision to say goodbye. He just couldn't force something that wasn't there, it was just not his call to make.

So then with time, he let himself go, actually enjoying life again, after many sleepless nights and therapy sessions, he understood it was beyond his reach. He laughed without her, and he made a future without her, and he was eventually happy without her. He went on dates, he made other women laugh, he even envisioned his life without her, making plans that had nothing to do with her. 

But nothing felt _enough_. No, there was still this voice in the back of his mind that made him remember nothing felt good enough if she wasn't there.

"Do you think she thinks of me, Kate? Of us?" his voice sounded tired and he let himself sit down on the piano stool again. "Do you think she remembers? She cares? She could really fool most of us saying she didn't, but I think deep down, she cared more than she let on."

He didn't feel his fingers starting to play, but the sound of improvised music was a comfort he could still afford to cherish. His heart calmed down from its outrage, but now it felt even worse than before. He didn't know if he preferred feeling too much or nothing at all, but he noticed that the song he was creating wasn't exactly the most joyful one. 

No, it was raw. It was raw just like what he felt for her, yes, what he'd always felt for her since the very beginning. It was raw and it was pure and it was downright painful how honest it sounded, how tired he felt.

"Do you think she's okay?" his fingers continued to play but he couldn't figure out what exactly, he was doing everything in auto-pilot. "Do you think she found what she was looking for? It's as clear as day it wasn't me, uh?" The cold of his smile hurt his cheeks and he soon dropped it, not finding the strength in him to bother smiling. "I really thought I could-"

He didn't finish the thought, but he knew in his heart what was true. 

He really thought he could bring her back home to him. _With him_.

Bitter laughter escaped Tony's lips and his hands stopped playing, falling on top of the keys with a loud echoing sound. He turned to Kate, immediately cursing on how much of a fool he was to be speaking to _a goldfish._

"That doesn't matter, does it?" His chest hurt more than ever before, and he tried to bite back the angry tears that threatened to fall. " _She's gone_ ," he spat to the dark. "You're gone. You're both _ghosts_."

He felt the tears fall nonetheless, the salty taste burning in his tongue. 

"How about I stop pretending and treat her for what she really is, uh? A ghost. A _damn ghost_ ," his vision was blurry, but he couldn't care less. "The ghost of Ziva David," he said to one. "Has a nice ring to it, uh?'

He didn't register when he had started to play Clair de Lune again, but he halted as soon as he noticed. Tony looked around his dark apartment, inhaling deeply and shutting his eyes. If he thought hard enough, he could picture her right there, right in front of him. The dark sharp eyes and mysterious smile, engraved forever in his mind. He wondered a million times already why she hadn't returned any of his calls, nor the dozens of voicemails or texts he'd sent in the past _year_. He knew she'd asked for time, but something in his gut felt wrong.

Something was telling him that she needed him as much as he needed her.

But that couldn't be true. No, she wasn't someone who regretted her decisions, as hard as they were, no, she just wasn't. He doubted she ever even thought of them, if she also wondered how different life would be if they had made different choices...

Or how it still could be if they were willing to. 

No, she would've called. She would've talked to him if something had come up, good or bad or even _someone_. He just wasn't the one by her side anymore. The years of being her partner had long gone, even if the memories were bound to stay with him forever.

Tony opened his eyes to find only darkness staring back at him. He found no explanation in it, the same as always. 

"Do you think I could-" his voice died, and he couldn't make himself say it out loud. Not when he already knew the answer.

"Do you think she lov-"

He looked down at his fingers hovering over the black and white keys, its shadows revealing the bitter passage of time. A single note echoed around his living room and he closed his eyes again, cherishing its sound. 

The memory came back in a second, its sudden strength hitting him like a freight train and making his chest hurt and breathing falter. Yes, he remembered. He remembered exactly how he'd felt, how strange it was to see her softness under all that armor, when he'd played her favorite song and she had listened, standing just beside with a hand squeezing his shoulder. He could almost feel the ghost of that touch, the peace in it while he played, and her soft, relaxed smile while she listened to it with eyes closed. 

"Oh, Dah-veed," he whispered to the dark. A bitter chuckle escaped him. "What the hell I'm supposed to do?"

And he didn't know why he chose to play it when he knew it would only bring him more pain, but he couldn't stop himself. He could never stop himself when it came to her. 

But as soon as he did, something snapped in his heart. It had been too long since he'd listened to this song, since he had fully acknowledged her presence in his life, her ghost and all its memories. But now that he knew that even a stranger could see how much she affected him, he decided to indulge himself in its sound and share a secret with the darkness engulfing him.

That he couldn't live without her, no matter how much time it had passed.

And if the neighbors listened to Moonlight Sonata for a thousand times that night, he didn't care. And if his fingers started to hurt just as much as his chest, he didn't care.

All he cared was that she wasn't there, and that kept him going.

No song could erase the memories of her ghost, no matter how many times it was played.


End file.
